Tonight there must be people who
are getting what they want. I let my oars fall into the water. Good for them. Good for them, getting what they want.

The night is so still that I forget to breathe. The dark air is getting colder. Birds are leaving.

Tonight
there are people getting just what they need.

The air is so still that it seems to stop my heart. I remember you
in a black and white photograph taken this time of some year. You were leaning against a half-shed tree, standing
in the leaves the tree had lost.

When I finally exhale it takes forever to be over.

Tonight, there are people
who are so happy, that they have forgotten to worry about tomorrow.

Somewhere, people have entirely forgotten
about tomorrow. My hand trails in the water. I should not have dropped those oars. Such a soft wind.